


Selective Amnesia

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actually Pretty Fluffy, F/M, Steve gets hit in the head, Tumblr Prompt, and doesn't remember who Natasha is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve suffers a nasty head injury, he wakes up with the kind of memory loss that makes things very awkward for Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selective Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt for this kind of thing on tumblr and I feel like this isn't my best- it was fighting me something fierce, but here's the result. Hope you like it!

It was amazing what a bump on the head could do to a person. One minute, they could be a super-solider, fighting for good against the combined forces of a pissed off Loki and a Doom who knew an opportunity when he saw one, and the next they could be laying on a hospital bed, out cold. No one had actually seen Steve fall, but he was hit and stayed down for the rest of the battle, unmoving and unresponsive. Clint had taken his pulse when he could and dragged the unconscious soldier off to the side, but Steve was definitely and permanently down for the remainder of their battle.

When the dust settled and Bruce shrank back down to himself, he was the first thing they saw to. Thor carefully carried Steve back into Avengers Tower, up to the medical floor so Bruce could look him over. It turned out that while Steve had been knocked out pretty badly, the majority of the damage was directly to his head. He had a few gashes on his side, scratches on his hands and jaw and neck from how he’d fallen, but the head injury was what kept him under. All Bruce could do was make him comfortable and hope that the serum did some kind of magic to heal the beating his brain had taken.

Every single member of the team took turns sitting beside him, but none was more vigilant than Natasha. Refusing any and all missions that could be given to someone else, she remained a near constant presence in his hospital room, reading aloud to him from books she knew he liked or Russian poetry books or history books. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as she was talking and he had the chance to listen. She held his hand sometimes too and no one who happened to come in and catch her at it said a single word about it.

Honestly, Natasha just hated the thought that Steve might be different. He’d been through so much already- the serum, the ice, his fight with the Winter Soldier, and now this. What if he woke up and his head just wasn’t screwed on right? What if he wasn't the person she'd grown to care about? What if this was the straw that broke the camel's back and he just couldn't recuperate properly? Everyone had their limit and she was genuinely worried that this was his.

It took Steve three whole weeks to show signs of life save for the little twitches his eyes made behind closed lids. Natasha was there, of course, and she stood up immediately, pressing the button to call for Bruce. The doctor came running in as Steve's brow furrowed, staying that way for a few minutes before he finally opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. “He--” He coughed hard and Bruce instructed Natasha to get water, which she grabbed and offered to him with a straw to make it easier. Steve drank greedily, reaching up to cover his mouth as he coughed again. “Hey,” he tried again, his voice low and rough because of how long it had been. “What happened?”

Bruce was busy taking vitals, testing Steve's reflexes and blood pressure and heart rate to make damn sure that he was still in tip-top condition. “You got hit in the head,” Natasha explained patiently. “You've been out for a few weeks, but everything seems okay now.” There was something in Steve's eyes she couldn't explain, so she didn't try. It was probably just a side effect of coming out of a coma.

Once Bruce had finished testing the soldier's eyes, peering into them with a little flashlight (and then his nose, ears and throat as well, just to be sure), he announced that the serum was a lifesaver. “You're in great shape,” he told Steve, but the soldier did something that threw both of them off. He smiled first, and easily slid his hand into Natasha's, lacing their fingers together.

As surprised as Natasha was, she didn't pull away- she wanted to see where he was going with this. “I'm glad to hear it, doc,” he answered. “Can't keep scaring my girl like that.” Of course, that was even more worrying and Bruce pushed a hand through his hair, glancing briefly at a startled Natasha.

“Steve, who is your girl?”

The soldier gave Bruce a look like he should really know the answer to that and lifted Natasha's hand up, kissing her knuckles. “This girl right here,” he said sincerely, like he really believed it. “Isn't she beautiful? I'm a lucky man, I'll tell you that. Luckiest man in the world.” Looking at her hand for a moment, he frowned lightly and looked up to Natasha. “Why aren't you wearing your ring?”

Bruce and Natasha both went quiet for a moment, exchanging a carefully calm look so as not to make Steve panic. “Steve, can you tell me what your girl's name is?” Bruce inquired further, trying to figure out if Steve was stuck in the past or... what was happening here.

Steve glanced back to Bruce for just a moment. “Peggy,” he said confidently. “Her name is Peggy.”

Natasha swallowed and arched an eyebrow, wondering exactly how far this was going to go. Was this permanent? Was it supposed to hurt her as much as it did to hear him refer to her as his long lost love? Luckily, Bruce jumped in and saved the day- for the moment, anyway. “I'm going to need to borrow... Peggy... for a moment, okay?” Natasha nodded and carefully tugged her hand away from Steve, following Bruce out of the room.

“Well, he's not right,” the doctor pointed out, earning an impatient look from Natasha. “I want to give it a few weeks. With the serum, it could just be that his brain needs a little time to reset.” Bruce looked up to Natasha and gave her a sheepish look. “Can you pretend for that long? Say, six weeks.”

She didn't want to. Natasha would willingly do so much for Steve, but this was torture. It was going to be bad not only because she would have to pretend to be everything she wanted to be- namely, his- but also because she knew deep down that he really did want Peggy beside him, not her. She was going to have to pretend to be his wife? Not just his girlfriend, not just a girl he liked. No: his wife. Couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to be the one to do this? “Of course I can do it,” she answered. “I've pretended for longer.”

Bruce reached out to touch her shoulder and promised he'd be back in a while, leaving her to go back into the room with Steve. It was strange, okay? He brightened as soon as he saw her and she spent the next six hours holding his hand while he talked and she talked and she tried hard to explain things that were off- like why she'd decided to dye her hair and where her ring was. When he fell asleep, Natasha was beyond relieved.

He had to stay in the hospital for three more days under careful watch and she stayed with him, arriving in the morning and staying through their lunch together. Then she would leave under the guise of meetings at work and come back in time for dinner, watching TV with him until visiting hours were over. She kissed him on the cheek whenever she had to say goodbye and pretended not to see the confusion in his eyes.

Coming home was going to be way more complicated. Under Bruce’s advisement, she’d moved some of her things onto Steve’s floor, leaving a neat drawer of her clothing, some shoes and various books placed around the apartment, and the kicker- she’d purchased a cheap, vintage ring for her finger, and one for him as well. He’d said that it was good to be back when she got him up to ‘their’ floor, handing him his ring with the explanation that they’d taken them off before their mission so they didn’t get lost. It was a thin lie at best, but he seemed to buy it.

The day went relatively well, in Natasha’s opinion. They had dinner together (ordered, not cooked- because she didn’t want anything burning down in the process) and she insisted that he stay off his feet for the rest of the night, so they chose a movie and sat on the couch to watch it. He held her hand and Natasha didn’t know what to do. By the time the movie ended, she still didn’t know what to do, so she decided to let the guy with the head injury lead them on.

He turned off the television and kissed her hand, tugging her along and into his bedroom, where he closed the door and kissed her cheek before moving away to get changed. At least, she thought he was getting changed. For her part, she pulled out a big tshirt and tights, changing with her back to him because married couples did that, right? Except that when she was down to her panties, he came up behind her and Natasha had to force herself not to tense.

“I’ve missed having you in bed with me,” he said softly, kissing her bare shoulder. “What do you say we celebrate?” Oh, no. No, she couldn’t do that. As much as Natasha might have wanted the chance to sleep with Steve, and she really did want a chance, doing it like this just wasn’t right. But he was warm and solid behind her and Natasha tilted her head back a little, allowing him to slide his hands up and cup her breasts while she reached back to run her fingers through his hair… No. No, she liked Steve. He was her friend. This was wrong. Turning fast, she pressed against his chest a little to make him stop.

“Not tonight,” she said firmly. “I’ve…” Really? “I’ve got a headache.” It was such a poor lie that Steve had the decency to look a little hurt, and a whole lot disappointed. But he nodded and agreed, kissing her very lightly on the lips- she let him have that one. When they curled up in bed, Natasha considered sticking to her side of the bed and playing the part of a cold wife… but when he moved to lay behind her, curling his arm around her waist, she allowed it. He could have this, even if it wasn’t a true comfort.

The days passed slowly. For the most part, Natasha’s life remained the way it had been before- missions, nights at home, vodka sometimes to make her sleep. The addition of Steve’s arms around her in bed, Steve’s sweet ‘I love you’s’ that were never returned because she would always pretend to be asleep, Steve’s pancakes in the morning sometimes… All that was fake. Natasha did her best to not get used to it, especially because she knew he would never give this to her if he was himself at the moment.

Four weeks later, with Steve still forbidden to get back into the field and was showing no signs that his memory had improved, a disturbing sight confronted her one night upon her arrival home. Steve was sitting in the living room with his sketchbook, drawing and… crying. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he swore and tore a page out, wrinkling it up and tossing it onto the other side of the sofa with what looked like a pile of rejects. Natasha didn’t know what to do, so she watched.

She watched as he pulled at his hair in frustration as he sketched quickly again, eventually tearing out that one as well and tossing it aside. After some time trying to figure it all out, she stepped forward and he looked up, immediately wiping at his eyes to greet her. “Hey, Steve,” she said slowly. “What are you doing…?” She reached over to pluck one of the drawings off the pile and ignored the way he watched her as she unfolded it. The sketch was very rough- a woman, clearly, with big eyes and defined lips. Peggy. Natasha didn’t know what to make of it.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked, showing it to him. Steve sighed and shook his head, looking very much like a lost puppy or a frightened child. Natasha sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “Steve, where have you seen her before?”

There was this pause and Natasha could see the guilt that flashed over his face. “In my dreams,” he admitted eventually and, though he couldn't tell, Natasha's stomach twisted. “Every night, in my dreams. Who is she? Do you know?” Yes. “We can talk about it later,” she answered patiently. “I have an appointment with Bruce.” Immediately, he was concerned and his brow knitted together like it always did as he asked her if she was sick. “No, of course not,” she said easily. “I’m fine, I promise.”

She left quickly and sought Bruce out, asking him how much longer she’d have to do this. He was dreaming of Peggy. He was scared. Wasn’t there anything he could do to speed up the process? “Nat, I don’t think so,” he sighed. “If we go poking around in his head, we could do more harm than good.” But, he’d added, she was allowed to tell him who the woman was…and hope he remembered.

Frustrated, Natasha returned to Steve’s floor and found him in the exact same spot, thumbing through sketches of Peggy and sketches of Natasha herself like he couldn’t figure out which was which. “I know who the woman is,” she admitted, sitting down on the arm of the sofa behind him. Steve’s attention was immediately on her, curious and clearly troubled by his dreams.

“Her name is Agent Carter,” she explained. “Back during World War II, she fought alongside a lot of our bravest soldiers. She was from England, and from what I’ve heard she was the kind of woman you only meet once or twice in a lifetime- the kind of woman that makes you stop and lose your breath for a minute.” Yes, it was a romantic thought. Sue her.

Steve frowned and reached up to touch her hand where it was resting on his shoulder. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “How can this be Agent Carter when you’re Agent Carter?” Damn. She’d been hoping that not using ‘Peggy’ would keep this vague. Sighing, Natasha moved to sit on the edge of the couch, facing him.

“I’m not Agent Carter,” she explained. “My name is Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.” Right away, Steve’s face switched from sadness to confusion to betrayal and Natasha was quick to explain. “You were hurt in battle, got a nasty head wound, and you’re getting us confused,” she said evenly. “We’re also not married. We’re not even together—“

“What about her?” Steve pointed down at the sketch in his lap, of a young Peggy Carter. “Where is she? Am I married to her?”

Oh, no. He remembered the ice- that she knew- but how was she supposed to explain that Peggy had died a few months prior? “Steve, she’s gone,” she said, trying her best to be empathetic. She even laid her hand on top of his, but he slowly pulled it away. Honestly, that hurt more than she’d expected it to. “She was someone you knew back before the ice,” she tried. “You visited her a few times, but she was pushing ninety five and had Alzheimer’s… She died one night, in her sleep, and you even attended her funeral.”

Steve was pale, like he didn’t know what to make of it. “I had so many dreams about her,” he said quietly. “And I thought… that I was a bad husband, because it felt like I should be in love with her. I thought there was something wrong with me because you never said that you loved me and you never kissed me and…”

Natasha had clearly gone about this the wrong way. “Steve, there’s nothing wrong with you,” she protested. “You’re just hurt. You’ll get your memories back soon, most likely.”

He didn’t want to hear it. “Why are you here, then?” he asked angrily, moving to force her off the couch and standing up. “You’re not my wife, right? And if I’m fine, then I don’t need anyone watching me. Get out.”

Natasha blinked, glared, and set off on her own, padding right back out of the apartment and downstairs to her own. Her clothes and toiletries were left behind, but they could be replaced. All that mattered right now was that her heart was hammering in her chest and she tore the ring off her finger, tossing it aside as she made her way into a nice, hot shower.

Two more weeks passed and Natasha’s hurt turned to a cold acceptance of fact. Steve would probably consider her some kind of traitor for lying to him the way she had and even if he did get his memories back, things would never be the same. No doubt about that. She didn’t see Steve the whole time, avoiding the man himself, his floor and any ‘team gatherings’ where they would be thrown together. She took mission after mission, spending nights in Russia and Romania rather than coming home as soon as she was done. She missed him; spending time in the gym together, watching movies… she even missed being held in his arms at night. How could she not? She’d gotten used to his heartbeat, his steady breathing, the way he’d kind of tighten his hold around her if she moved because he didn’t want to let her go.

Another two weeks and Natasha was firmly told that she was not going on another mission until she had a proper three nights of rest. She protested, of course, but that hardly mattered. Fury’s mind was made up and she backed off, holing herself up in her suite of rooms with Chinese food and, because no one was there to judge her, one of the movies she’d watched with Steve.

Unfortunately, that was the day he found her. She’d heard that the memories came back, but Natasha hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Steve since he’d demanded that she leave after she’d revealed the truth. She was scared, okay? She was scared he wouldn’t want to speak to her because she’d played him like she played everyone else. Curled up on the couch, she heard his heavy footsteps before she heard the knock on her door followed by JARVIS’ warning concerning who it was.

“Let him in,” she sighed. There was a muffled ‘Thanks’ to JARVIS before Steve entered, carrying a box of things that he set down on the coffee table in front of her.

He had the decency to look sheepish, but Natasha didn’t move from the couch or look away from the television. “Hey,” he tried. “I, uh... You weren’t home, so I just waited until you came back to… bring you your stuff…” Natasha turned her eyes up to him and gave him a look. Their eyes met and they stared for a few seconds before he kind of fell onto the sofa beside her. “Look,” he came out with. “I know I acted like an ass and I had no right to after what you did for me. I was scared and confused and I lashed out at you. I’m sorry.”

Natasha, despite the rather strong urge to accept his apology and ask him whether or not he’d hold her in bed again, just shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” she said blandly, glancing down at his hand and then back to the TV. “That was weeks ago, after all.” She could have sworn his face fell a little bit, but she was too busy flipping through the channels until she landed on a Russian soap opera and stopped. Steve wasn't wearing his ring anymore either, and she missed it somehow.

“Right,” he answered after a moment. “Right. I guess I just thought…” Natasha looked up to him again and he pressed his lips together, shaking his head as he got up and began to retreat. “See you, Nat. Don’t be a stranger.”

He was gone a moment later and Natasha swore under her breath. Things were weird.

While she went back to attending team gatherings and so on, they never really got back to how they had been before. Natasha kept to herself, for the most part, or spent her time chatting with Bruce and Clint. Steve remained with Thor, or Tony. It was all very separate for a while—until Steve apparently worked up the courage to speak to her again.

She’d been in the gym, folded up in a complex pose on her yoga mat, when his voice rang out and echoed in the otherwise empty room. “I want you back.” Not even opening her eyes, Natasha sighed a little and stated the obvious.

“Technically, you never had me.”

There were a few moments of silence before Steve seemingly refused to believe that she was telling the truth and marched forward, coming to stop in front of her. “But I did,” he protested. “I had you in the gym for sparring and I got to talk to you at breakfast and I had you…” He took a deep breath and Natasha could imagine his chest rising and falling. “I had you every night for a while, right where I wanted you.”

Natasha finally opened her eyes and shifted once, folding her legs under her and arching her back as she locked her hands together behind her. “Even though I’m not her?” she asked, watching him very carefully for a response.

Steve vaguely looked like he was in pain and sat down on the floor in front of her, idly rubbing at his thighs. “I loved Peggy,” he started. She felt bad- she hadn’t meant to make him upset. “She was the first girl who ever gave me a shot. She _listened_ to me.”

“Steve,” she interrupted. “You really don’t have to—“

He held up a hand to stop her and Natasha went quiet, moving again to sit cross-legged and give him her full attention. “The only reason I would _ever_ confuse you with her would be because you remind me of her in all the best ways,” he explained. “You’re bossy. You want to be in charge and you’re not shy about letting everyone know that. Even when you’re not giving the orders, you’re working the people around you and your situation to your advantage. You’re _brilliant_ and beautiful in a way that makes me question how I ever thought simple things like flowers could be described using the same word. Maybe I woke up thinking we were together because I wish we _were_ together.”

Tilting her head to the side, Natasha considered him for a long moment and just had to press further. She had to. “I’m not like her, Steve,” she reasoned quietly. “Peggy was a good woman. Skills on the field aside, she was good. I’m just a killer.”

It was so clear in the way his eyes flashed that he hated hearing her refer to herself like that- Natasha logged the reaction away for later. “I love you,” he said simply, meeting her gaze without hesitation and opening himself up in a way she could never relate to. “If… If there’s any chance that you might love me too, please just let me know.”

Very diplomatic, she thought. Very mature. “I want to be good enough for you,” she admitted, maintaining eye contact like she was daring him to mock her for it. “But I'm not. Maybe you see some of her in me and that's what it is, because you really can't put someone like her and someone like me in the same category.”

She figured that Steve would do one of two things; see reason and admit that she was right, or continue arguing because he was a stubborn jackass. He did neither. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together very briefly, lightly touching her cheek just as he pulled away.

“Women I've loved,” he shrugged. “Same category.”

Natasha huffed a little, but it was to distract from how her lips twitched up into a small smile. Damn him and all his charm, and all his acceptance. She leaned over and connected their lips again, reaching up for the back of his head to keep him there while she let him know the best way she could that she loved him too- though the words were stuck in her throat.

That night, she got what she'd been craving since the moment Steve forced her out and fell asleep in his bed, his arms wrapped around her and his heart beating a steady rhythm behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
